


A Christmas (in 3 parts)

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Drinking, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Gift Giving, Holding Hands, Holiday Fic Exchange, Innuendo, Mistletoe, Office Party, Older Man/Younger Woman, Teasing, bisexual Coulson, bisexual Daisy, mentions of Mackelena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9115870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: written for #thejcexchange for missmusicaltardis for the prompts : Late night cuddles, First Christmas together as a couple, Forehead KissesHappy Holidays!





	1. Do You Wassail?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missmusicaltardis](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=missmusicaltardis).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Santa's Village under the stars.

"Do you think it's possible?" she asks, looking up at the clear sky above them as her breath hovers nearby. "To do what we do and be-"

"I'm happy."

Up there in the stars, somewhere, is the answer to how she came to be this. To what brought him back to life.

Into her life.

She looks down at the empty container in her hands, instead of what she knows will be his very earnest expression, and crumbles up the stiff paper, trying not to shiver in the cold night air.

"That easy, huh?"

Rising from the picnic table, she crunches along the snow-covered ground to take the few steps to throw it away in one of the trash bins near the food truck.

"I guess I've gone...easy," he smiles, hesitation and mischief muddled together.

The tip of his nose has turned pink. Probably his ears, too, if she could see them, hidden beneath the wool cap he's wearing.

Checking his eyes, her gaze falls on the smudge of powdered sugar at the corner of his mouth, and she sniffs at the drip that's forming in her nose while the Christmas muzak plays over the loudspeakers.

She thinks it's Good King Wenceslas, or something she heard once at St. Agnes and barely remembers.

Reaching tentatively, brushing her finger against the corner of his mouth, he sucks in his own breath hanging in the chill air.

Easy, but maybe not ready for that.

A lot of things have changed.

Some of them, though, have somehow remained the same. Which is a first, for her.

After everything they've been through, it feels like he's trying to move forward in his own way.

How else does she explain that they're here tonight?

It was her idea, to sort of clear the air, put the past behind them. He didn't even hesitate to go along with it.

In spite of the rules about Inhumans and SHIELD fraternizing. He's never said one word since they caught Mack and Elena _mackelenaing_ a week ago.

"Hey," she says, taking the napkin from his hand and wiping hers on it. "Enough fun for one night."

He watches her carefully, giving her a small smile as he rises off the picnic table to stand next to her.

Waiting as she puts on her gloves, he looks around the circle of the makeshift holiday village. The huge yule log burning at the foot of the giant Christmas tree.

"Wassail?" he asks, turning over his shoulder and shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

She doesn't exactly laugh.

"Do you _wassail_ , Coulson?" she asks, in a teasing tone.

Sure, I've wassailed," he answers, overly serious, and offers his elbow to her.

"When is the last time you wassailed?" she asks with laughter full in her voice.

She hooks her arm through his, and then puts her hand in her pocket, drawing them shoulder to shoulder.

"I was still a bit green, I guess," he says, fondly, as they start to walk. "It was more about the wassail than the company at the time. I think."

She nods, trying to conjure up the image in her mind, not really sure how to place him in that vague timeline. She wonders if he's talking about when he ran with Garrett in his early days in SHIELD. When Fury was his S.O.

"And you?" he asks, as they walk towards the truck that's selling all the overly-sweet, warm, alcoholic beverages.

"Not really," she says as they get in the line. She sort of skipped wassail and went straight to whiskey.

She analyzes the length and how quickly the drinks are being distributed, because it's that damn cold.

"The Wassail Guy is pretty cute," she jokes, eyeing the man with the dark beard handing out the steaming recycled paper cups.

"That brings back memories."

Her head darts up to look at him, as he shrugs back at her.

"Then I guess we both wassail," she grins, then presses her lips together, and tips her head. "It's been awhile."

He starts to laugh.

Coulson looks even nicer when he laughs.


	2. The Holiday Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forced holiday cheer and mistletoe.

The SHIELD Holiday Party is exactly what you might expect.

Director Mace is really into forced holiday cheer, it turns out.

In that very neutral, careful, kind of way, as though it's the kind of thing that really shouldn't exist. What else do you make of a gathering of former black ops agents, Inhumans and an android who has read the Darkhold?

Nevertheless, there are drink tickets, a raffle, and sparkling multi-colored banners that use variations of the idea of celebrating with the word "together".

And this is not her kind of thing at all. However, turning it down seems like something tantamount to treason at this point.

Given that she's been branded as part of SHIELD's public image.

How did that ever happen?

Still, she's been mingling for the last hour, trying to get to know some of the faces of the agents she doesn't recognize. Watching Aida curiously observe "holiday cheer" as she drifts between different groups of people, then back to Fitzsimmons and Radcliffe again.

Radcliffe has somehow found a way around the concept of two drink tickets, but seems too pleased to watch his creation interact with everyone to care.

Then she catches a glimpse of Coulson on the other side of the room, in a cozy sweater, chatting with May and her group of trainees.

Their eyes meet, for what she thought might be the briefest of moments. Then it lingers, and she can feel the familiar tug.

It's something she's spent the better half of the year working on putting aside.

Right now, it feels like that tiny seed that was planted a long time ago has pushed out of the cold, hard, place she put it, and it's growing at an alarming rate.

They had a win, and it wasn't ideal. At all. It's just that it's been a long time since she felt like things were moving in the right direction.

Her flush feels too noticeable, though, so she looks away, moves out of his view. Behind Mack, where he can't exactly see her.

She smiles up at him as she invites herself into his conversation with Elena, and then moves around him, to find Coulson isn't there anymore.

Not willing to embarrass herself by immediately seeking him out, she nods along to Elena insinuating how much she would really, really like for Mack to unwrap his Christmas present. Muy pronto.

Mack, for his part, looks put on the spot, but not too nervous, all considered. Since there are only a couple of people privy to the fact that he and Elena are breaking rules.

She knows he hates keeping secrets, though. And he seems so happy lately, she knows he has to be hating keeping this secret.

At least she's not the only one with that problem. Her and Coulson have snuck off base together exactly once.

Raising her eyebrows with a spin to excuse herself from where this conversation is obviously headed, she turns to find Mace in front of her.

"Agent Johnson," he says, his cheeks a little pink from exactly one-and-a-half glasses of champagne. "I'm really glad that you made it."

It throws her off her train of thought, but she tips her glass against his. "This would be my first official SHIELD holiday gathering," she admits. " Cheers."

"Really?" he seems surprised. "Change is good, don't you agree?"

"Yeah," she answers, distracted, as Aida approaches them both, with a very genial smile on her face, and she notices Mace eye her with a mix of confusion and curiosity.

"It's my first holiday gathering as well, Agent Johnson," she offers.

"Please, call me Daisy," she replies, watching Mace's eyebrows knot together.

Between them, in the distance, she can see Coulson in view.

This time standing alone.

"Director," Aida begins, turning to Mace. "I find that this celebration certainly is a welcome distraction from recent events, which were both traumatic and with far-reaching consequenc-."

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it," he interrupts, flustered. "I see it as a win. As I was telling Daisy-"

He swivels back to look for her, but she's gone, making her way around to the other door and slipping into the corridor, out of the party's view.

"Happy Holidays," she says, with a bit of irony in her voice, as she approaches him.

Coulson takes a sip of his scotch, clearly surprised, then meets her eyes with a careful smile, that widens as she smiles back, inviting.

"The team that is festive together," he rings out. "Is-"

She laughs when he pauses.

"What rhymes with festive?" he asks her as she leans her back against the wall beside the doorway.

"Digestive?" It's the first thing that comes to mind, and she knows he's just being silly, but it makes her feel good. The idea that he seems at least as uncomfortable here as she does.

"Always thinking with your stomach," he teases as she rolls her eyes. "It sounded funnier in my head," he adds.

"Mmm," she nods in agreement, as she sips her whiskey, and watches him raise his eyebrows over his glass.

Her eyes follow his upward and she breaks their gaze to notice the pop of green hanging above him.

It occurs to her that maybe Coulson's not as nervous as he seems.

Their eyes meet again, or rather, she finds his on hers.

Ready.

She steps closer, as his eyes widen ever so slightly.

"Under the mistletoe?" she asks. "Was this a trap?"

"What are the chances?" he replies, then reminds her, "It is a holiday party, Agent Johnson."

"I guess you can't leave everything up to fate."

"Nope. Too risky."

A smile starts to spread across her face and they both laugh.

"Merry Christmas. Phil."

She hands him her drink, then stands on tiptoe, and takes his head in her hands, letting her lips touch a kiss to his forehead.

Not quite pulling away quick enough, long enough to hear his sigh.

"Do you ever think about running?" she says in a low voice, as she sets her heels on the ground, playing at sounding seductive, but nearly laughing again, instead, as he hands her drink back to her.

"I am right now," he blurts out, trying to bury the flush forming on his cheeks, too late.

She feels his fingers blindly touch her arm, carefully, because it's his left hand. Then at her wrist, as he reaches to grasp her fingers, their arms hidden between their bodies.

Taking hold, she squeezes back, while he glances back towards the party.

"Then let's get out of here."

And they both let go.


	3. All Merry And Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gifts are given. Snogs happen. Declarations are spoken (I wrote this before Slingshot aired).

"I have something for you," he tells her, once they're in his quarters on the Z-1.

Apparently they like to meet in the general vicinity of the hangar these days.

"I didn't get you anything," she starts, apologetic, as he opens a cabinet and pulls out a bottle and a couple of fresh glasses, and sets them down next to their empty ones.

"It's not that," he huffs at her, when she seems to suddenly relax at the idea they're just sharing a drink. "Daisy."

She sighs, then watches as he goes to a compartment on the wall, that's keyed to the fingerprints on his right hand.

It hisses open, and a panel slides back, revealing a few small objects inside.

He takes something out, sort of standing in front of it to hide it from her, and then shuts it and turns back around to her and holds the object out.

It doesn't seem like this could be possible, but, she touches the embossed leather casing with her fingers, then takes it in her hand.

"Is this my old SHIELD badge?" she smiles, looking down at it in unbelief. He really does love nostalgia.

"I lost that one. This is..." he shrugs at her. "Fury gave it to me. If he ever needed to get in touch."

She frowns slightly, like she's waiting for the catch, then opens it, sees her face displayed there. No mention of levels, just her real name, and an image of her in the field suit, just like on her lanyard.

"If he ever needs our help," he goes on, interrupting her thoughts. "You should be the one to answer."

"Coulson," she starts, shaking her head. "Phil, I can't. I haven't even met-"

"Fury knows all about you," he says, then walks to the bottle and opens it, pouring a couple of glasses. "Trust me?"

She almost wants to laugh again, but this is on another level. Putting the badge on the small table, she takes the glass from him.

"You really were serious about me being the Director someday?" she asks in a small voice.

"What do you think?" he says, lifting his eyes to her, and watching her watch his expression.

They tip their glasses together, and take a sip.

"I don't know what to say," she begins, shaking her head. "Does Fury actually watch television? All the things they've been saying about me-"

"Which aren't true," he chimes in. "Besides, you're now the public face of SHIELD, and I'm still..."

"Yeah," she nods, setting down her drink. "We have to figure out how to change that," she says, taking a step closer to him. "I don't want to have to do this alone."

"You won't. Unless you want to."

He's always given her the space to decide, to make her own choices, and she's overwhelmed with how justified he's made her feel. Without any pressure, without having to prove herself. How he's always seen her so clearly.

This is a huge step for her.

"I mean...I need you."

It scares her a lot to admit it, but she's never had something like this before with someone. She's tried, so hard, and this just happened, even though she can't possibly deserve it.

He half-smiles at her, like he's been caught off guard, eyes gone all soft and liquid.

"I had to play catch up, you know? Since we're both being honest," he looks down at his glass, bashfully. "That's not anything new-"

She pulls him against her, in a tight hug, not worrying about the drink in his hand, letting go of all of her fears around this. And his arm circles her waist, holding her close to him. Still holding her, even, when she pulls back.

It feels so nice.

"How did you get that extra badge?" she asks, slyly, taking his drink out of his hand to set it down.

He uses the free hand to push back her hair, so that he can slide his thumb along her cheek.

"You can't expect me to give away all my secrets," he answers with a smirk.

"Just give it time. It's kind of what I do," she tells him, biting on her bottom lip for a second, then pushing onward, eyes fluttering up to watch his close before they come together.

Her lips brush against his, soft and warm, dry from the cold air, testing the beginnings of this thing between them. And it starts off hesitant, but then something shifts, and they kiss again.

She feels his hands on her hips, drawing her up towards him, and she tilts to pull him down by the nape of his neck, closer to her.

It's lead by curiosity, and carefulness, and she can't remember when she's ever had a kiss like this.

The edge of the desk presses into her from behind, and she pauses. The realization that, for once, she doesn't feel like she has to rush this.

It feels like such a small luxury. A gift.

"Should we go back to the party?" she whispers, pulling their mouths apart, her fingernails scraping against the hair at the back of his neck, just to watch his reaction.

"No," he groans, then moves his lips against the side of her neck. "Probably," he agrees, weakly.

"We could wait until someone tries to find us? Blame it on your sense of nostalgia."

He lifts her up onto the edge of the desk, then smoothly moves the glasses out of the way, and takes her face between his hands as he kisses her again, deeply, passionately.

"I'm not exactly feeling nostalgic at the moment," he says, pulling back. Wearing a smirk, then touching his hand tenderly to her hair and brushing a hand through it.

"Merry Christmas, Phil," she says, reaching for his hand, holding it in hers.

"Merry Christmas, Daisy."

They smile at each other, and it seems like it could never end, but feels far too soon when it does, and he helps her off the desk, then leans forward and kisses the top of her head.

"My first Christmas. With you."

His eyes sparkle at her, as he pours some of the liquor into their old glasses, and hands hers back to her, getting ready to face the party again.

They head through the Z-1 and down the ramp, back towards the party.

"Together." It's a sudden statement, and he looks over at her when she says it. Before they reach the yellow set of doors that will require their lanyards for access.

"Our first Christmas _together_ ," she says, looking very serious after thinking it all through.

"Together," he agrees.

And he almost smiles, as they both swipe their lanyards.

But it's all there in his eyes.


End file.
